What nature surely modell’d for a Prince—
All but the sword—as you directed—
King. Ay—
Lord. If not too loudly, yet emphatically
Still with the title of a Prince address’d him.
King. How bore he that?
Lord. With all the rest, my liege,
I will not say so like one in a dream
As one himself misdoubting that he dream’d.
King. So far so well, Clotaldo, either way,